


work it out

by TheSpaceCoyote



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alpha Kylo Ren, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Chubby Armitage Hux, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, M/M, Mpreg, Omega Armitage Hux, Personal Trainer Kylo Ren, Self-Esteem Issues, Weight Issues, body image issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-11
Updated: 2019-05-11
Packaged: 2020-03-01 03:07:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18791734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSpaceCoyote/pseuds/TheSpaceCoyote
Summary: Hux hates how his body looks at the moment, especially in comparison to his fit, well-muscled boyfriend. Ben won't stand for it, though.





	work it out

**Author's Note:**

> I can't believe I haven't written some indulgent mpreg nonsense in like two weeks. Obviously, this couldn't stand. 
> 
> I had an idea for a modern AU featuring personal trainer Kylo and Hux feeling like he doesn't measure up to him physically, so that's what's going on here. 
> 
> I'm sure I made Kylo/Ben too nice and charming, though to make up for it I tried to keep Hux snarky and bitter even through his self-loathing. Hope that...helps? I'm working on some more serious, in-character things soon, I promise.

Hux wakes up in the tail end of the morning, as he’s fallen into the habit of doing. It’s easy to sleep late, especially when he’s up periodically in the night to pee or indulge his cravings or merely lie in bed, miserably, while the unborn children in his belly decide to throw a party.

Hux sighs heavily when the world comes back to him, first in fuzzy shapes, then a bit clearer. In his sleep, he feels lighter, blissfully removed from reality. But now that he’s awake, the familiar heaviness settles into his body, and he remembers just how large and uncomfortable it’s become.

He blearily looks downwards, placing a palm on the swollen lump visible beneath his bed covers. Grumbling, he peels them away, sticking out his lower lip as he takes in the state of his belly.

Hopelessly round and weighty, just like he’d left it last night. Probably grown imperceptibly bigger in the hours he’s been tossing and turning, if he’s being honest. The pregnancy likes to sneak up on him as he sleeps, taking him unawares and inflating his stomach to grotesque new proportions.

Hux stays on his side, not yet willing to try to sit up or turn around, and looks over his shoulder. Though he knows he probably won’t find what he wants, part of him hopes to see Ben lying there asleep, messy black hair spread all over the pillow, awaiting a couple kisses to wake him up. But no—of course the bed is empty, covers clumsily straightened back into place, with only the faint scent of Ben clinging to the fabric. Hux’s face falls, and he thumps his head back against the pillow. He noses into the hood of the jacket he’s wearing, searching for a stronger source of Ben’s scent. He rarely borrowed his boyfriend’s clothes before, but ever since falling pregnant he’s almost become obsessed with them, especially his outerwear. The one Hux has on right now is one of his favorites—well-worn and soft, emblazoned with Ben’s alma mater and utterly soaked in his smell. The cords of the hoodie tip in little metal aglets, which Hux likes to fidget whenever he’s anxious.

Unfortunately, it’s still no substitute for his boyfriend’s presence.

Bless his heart, Ben _tries_ to take more time off of work. He already has a bit of an irregular schedule, so it’s easier than if he had a nine-to-five job, but still there’s been many times where Hux has _needed_ him and he’s had to leave for one of his sessions. After all, even with Hux on paid leave, Ben has to keep working to save up money for when the twins finally arrive.

Rationally, Hux knows they’ll be fine in terms of finances, with at the very least Ben’s parents helping to foot the bills, but some days it’s just another worry threatening to tip the tottering pile of emotional distress right over.

It doesn’t help that, in moments of extreme weakness, Hux has begun to wonder what Ben sees in him anymore.

He’s become ugly. Utterly undesirable. Hux never considered himself some high standard of omega attractiveness in the first place, what with his underwhelming frame and average looks. Yet somehow, a verifiable heartthrob like Ben, who’d  made an entire career out of sculpting muscles and tightening abs, had found something salvageable there—consequently inspiring Hux to frequent the gym more. Ben had even gifted him a discounted pass, and though it was difficult with his job’s schedule, he’d started to seriously work on his arms and upper body as well as increase his cardiovascular fitness. It’d been a meager improvement, but improvement nonetheless, and Hux had felt he was finally on his way to becoming more worthy of his boyfriend.

Then he’d fallen pregnant.

At the first, joyous outset, the inevitable changes to physical form hadn’t even crossed Hux’s mind. He and Ben had been far too busy scurrying about, planning for the imminent arrival of their children. Hux remembers feeling a little afraid, in that giddy, tickling sort of way, but mostly elated at the thought of finally building a family with the man he’d loved for years. And though he escaped the worst of morning sickness and other typical early pregnancy woes, he’d soon started to change in ways he didn’t feel particularly fond of.

The fact that they were having _twins_ hadn’t helped. He’d rightly blimped up in the middle of his second trimester, and things had only grown worse from there. Now, in the beginning of the third, Hux considers himself a bloated shell of his former self. Like an overfilled water balloon, heavy and ponderous and ready to burst, yet he still has a few months left before their children are born.

Hux hates looking at himself in the mirror anymore, pointedly glancing aside when he has to wash his hands or strip to take a shower. Thanks to his slender frame, he’s never quite had the “typical” body of an omega, but now there’s a new, disconcerting roundness to his thighs and hips, and it doesn’t stop there. The weight gain is obvious all over, even in his face, where his cheeks and chin have grown a little chubbier. And of course his belly is the worst offender—a big pale blob, striated with red marks like he’s been stricken with some kind of infection. He detests washing himself now, but having Ben do it is almost worse—Hux can’t help but imagine he too dislikes every distended inch.

Overall he feels wholly unattractive and overweight, but what’s worse is that he _knows_ it’s normal, that his slim build and short torso probably caused him to carry larger, that he probably needed to gain _some_ weight to remain healthy, but it’s still screwing with his emotions and making him feel like a weak-minded and feeble _child_.

Even getting out of bed is a chore now. Hux puffs his cheeks out with exertion as he props himself up on one arm and swings his legs over the edge of the bed. His other hand cups the curve of his belly as it settles right atop his upper thighs, obscuring everything below. Hux takes a moment to steel himself, before pushing up hard, using the edge of the nightstand to help steady himself as he swayed to his feet.

Immediately, his ankles smart at the weight. _Fantastic_.

He ambles from his bedroom to the kitchen as best as he can, forcing himself to go slow though he’s eager to snag a warm drink to help calm his unruly insides. Beneath his sweatshirt, his belly moves, which he almost feels in his kidneys. He’s not totally used to the sensation of something solid shifting inside of him. It’s a nice sensation, considering he knows where it’s coming from, but also a bit unsettling.

“ _Easy_ ,” Hux whispers hastily to his belly, giving it a small pat as he continues shambling towards the kitchen, his bare feet padding against the tile floor. One of the twins rolls back against his palm but seems to settle after that, leaving Hux a brief respite to grab something for his stomach.

He used to drink those berry protein shakes Ben favored, but thanks to some quirk of pregnancy he can’t even stomach the smell of them now, much less the taste. Ben has to prepare them when Hux is out of the room, or else he’ll gag, something he feels very ashamed and guilty of. Ben has had to shift around so much in his life to accommodate Hux— _far_ too much, in his opinion.

He wishes he hadn’t become such an unsightly burden on his boyfriend.

Hux glumly searches for a mug, finding most of his usual ones in the wash, and finally decides to choose a dark, space-patterned cup that belongs to Ben. It’s part of a collection, actually—nine in total, each emblazoned with a design of one planet in the solar system that only properly appears when it’s filled with hot water. The one Hux finds is Jupiter, like this is some sort of cosmic joke at his expense. That big and ugly red mark certainly sticks out in a similar way as his belly button, and his children _do_ love to kick up a storm inside him. Perhaps it’s more fitting than he wants to admit.

Hux sets the mug on the counter before filling the hot water kettle and flipping it on. He waddles over to the cupboard, scrounging for the brand of decaf tea Ben bought him recently. It’s a blend that’s supposed to help his stomach, yet Hux isn’t all too fond of it. It has a strange taste, reminiscent of anise, but he’s sipped worse. At this point, he’s grateful for anything that helps him relax.

He drapes two tea bags into the mug, resting his hip against the edge of the counter as he waits for the water to boil. When he glances over to the clock on the oven, he finds it’s a lot later than he thought—past noon, in fact. _Lord_ , he’s really let himself go, hasn’t he? Before, when he still had the energy and ability to go into the office, he would wake up every day at six o’clock and run through his meticulous morning routine with ease. Now, he can hardly drag himself out of bed for a cup of tea before it officially becomes the afternoon.

On the counter sits a stack of mail Ben had presumably brought in before leaving for work, and to Hux’s dismay he sees one of those detestable maternity magazines sitting right at the top. He’d told Ben to cancel their subscription but he must not have gotten around to it yet. At first, Hux had wanted to read all he could about pregnancy, absorb any tips and tricks from other expecting couples, but as his own wore on he’d soured on these publications. Pure drivel— nothing but pages and pages of omegas showing off fake smiles and fashionable sweaters and blouses and cute, petite baby bumps. Doing yoga and eating salad with their airbrushed skin and snug Lululemon leggings. Idiots. They have no _idea_ what a special kind of suffering it is to lug around a pair of Ben Solo-sized offspring.

Hux hates them.

The kettle _pings_ behind him, a little jet of steam streaming from the spout. Hux nudges himself off the counter, grabbing the mug and carefully pouring the water into it. He lets out a small yawn, the passable scent of the tea filling his nose as he sets the kettle aside and carefully lifts the mug.

He’s ready to settle into one of the chairs at the kitchen table and fritter the rest of the day away, at least until Ben returns, when one of the twins suddenly shifts and kicks him _hard_ in the diaphragm.

“ _Ah_!” Hux shouts, one hand clamping to the side of his belly, the surprise and pain causing him to lose his grip on the mug and sending it crashing to the floor. Hux flinches at the sound of shattering ceramic, unable to even see where it’s fallen or how badly the cup has broken with the bloat of his belly in the way. He hunches over, trembling hand braced against the edge of the counter as he takes several deep breaths, suddenly feeling his lungs tighten even as the smarting pain of his pup’s movement ebbs away. Hux grits his teeth in frustration, feeling warmth rise up in his cheeks. He can’t even make a cup of tea without messing up, can he? He doesn’t even get to have _that_ , does he?

 _Screw it_. Hux throws up his hands, leaving the mess on the floor and stomping to the living room. With tears building in his eyes, he flops himself down sideways on the couch and curls his legs up as best as he can manage. Even lying down, his belly still sticks obtrusively in front of him, like a taunt. He tosses an arm over his eyes, not wanting to look at it any longer.

Hux stays that way for a long while, sniffling, trying to phase into the couch cushions so maybe he won’t have to occupy the physical body he hates for a moment longer, until the door to their apartment _clicks_. The tell-tale heavy, measured footsteps that could only belong to Ben follow. Hux curls up tighter, hugging his other arm around his waist, anticipating—

“Armie? You in here?’ _There it is._

Hux puffs pathetic breath through his lips, wishing he could pretend to be asleep and avoid a conversation he does not want to have right now. Yet Ben always has some kind of sixth sense when it comes to his boyfriend’s distress levels, and in a moment he’s poking his head around the corner from the kitchen, eyes immediately falling on Hux.

“You okay?” Ben asks, the rest of his body promptly following. Hux grimaces once he sees those broad pecs and sculpted shoulders, just barely concealed beneath a compression shirt spotted with perspiration. Ben’s whipped his damp hair back in a messy bun, and his cheeks are a little flushed. He must’ve just come out of a training session—most likely with one of his more athletic clients, if he’d broken a sweat. Training post-op patients or middle-aged ladies isn’t exactly so strenuous.

“What’s up? Is something wrong?” Ben asks again, placing his tennis shoes atop the little metal rack near the floor before padding on over. Hux averts his eyes and nibbles his lower lip, not wanting to talk about it. If he does, he feels like he might start to cry again, and he doesn’t want to act so disgracefully in front of his boyfriend.

But Ben is notoriously bad at leaving him alone. He crosses the living room and kneels at Hux’s side, the smell of sweat and deodorant following him.

“Can you tell me what happened? Is it the twins?”

Hux shakes his head quickly. Irrationally upset as he is, he doesn’t want his boyfriend over-worrying about the twins. Ben looks relieved.

“That’s good. Are you just sore again or something? I can run you a bath or rub you down if you want.”

Hux shakes his head again, now frustrated with Ben’s niceness, his willingness to give him all that he doesn’t deserve. Ultimately the longer this drags on, the more silly he feels, so he ends up just blurting it out.

“I broke one of your mug,” he states, fiddling with one of the hoodie’s cords. “I’m sorry.”

“I saw,” Ben replies slowly, resting his hand on Hux’s shoulder and stroking it with his thumb, “it’s okay. It broke into big pieces, so I think I can fix it.”

That should be a relief to Hux, should help to ease his guilt over breaking one of Ben’s favorite mugs, but it doesn’t.

“You shouldn’t _have_ to fix it.” He can hear his voice wavering, but tries to keep pushing the words out. “I shouldn’t have broken it in the first place, but _this one_ —” he points accusingly at the side of his belly, “— _jabbed_ me and it really hurt!”

Hux’s voice breaks on the last word as he rapidly blinks his eyelids, trying to prematurely stave off tears. It _had_ hurt, he’d been so shocked at the sudden punch of pain in his side. He’s doing his best to carry his children, and it feels like they already didn’t like him, already want to _harm_ him. Like he isn’t doing enough and this is his preemptive punishment for being a rotten father.

“It’s just a cup,” Ben tries to soothe, but Hux can feel himself already working up to hysteria. He can’t stop himself, and even as his boyfriend tries to quiet him his breath starts to hitch in distress.

“This is _miserable_. I’m already such a failure of a parent...and a partner...I can’t even be left alone without ruining things. Everything feels _r-ruined_.”

Ben presses his lips together, eyebrows following suit. He lets the silence settle between them, broken only by Hux’s messy whimpering, before speaking up.

“It’s not about the cup, is it?”

It wouldn’t surprise Hux if he _did_ cry over something as silly as a cup. But no, it’s not just about that, of course. And when Ben asks him so earnestly, in that soft voice of his, as if Hux could admit to murder and he would still understand, he can’t help but let it out. Unwilling tears spill over his cheeks as he lets out a damp sniffle.

“Look at me. Look how _large_ I’ve gotten. I’m _disgusting_ ,” Hux hisses miserably, scrubbing at his eyes. “And foolish. Crying like this. I should just accept how horrible I look, and not whinge on about it.”

“Strawberry, everything you just said was totally wrong.” Ben flinches as Hux whacks his arm, glaring. “I—wait, let me rephrase that—”

“ _What_?” Hux growls, annoyed despite the use of his favored pet name.

“It’s just…” Ben sighs, moving his hand up and down his boyfriend’s upper arm. “You’re not disgusting. You don’t look horrible, and it’s alright if sometimes you need to cry. Okay?”

“You don’t need to _lie_. It’s grotesque. Obviously no one could ever find... _this_ attractive.” Hux gestures at his horribly swollen belly. He must look even more pathetic, his eyes inflamed with tears and his cheeks puffy and stained. “Especially not someone like you.”

Ben frowns.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Hux huffs through wet, wibbling lips. Did Ben not understand? To him, it was obvious.

“Because you’re...I don't know…you’re so…. _you_ ,” Hux finishes lamely, but seems to get his point across when he gestures at Ben’s bared shoulders. “Strong. _Fit_.”

“It’s my job to be... _me_ ,” Ben starts cautiously, rubbing Hux’s arm. “But it’s your job to keep the twins safe until they’re ready, and I think you’re doing pretty great at that.”

“Yes, yes. I just wish I didn’t look so….plump and slovenly in the interim,” Hux grimaces as Ben wipes at his tears with his other hand, though he doesn’t swat him away. “Whenever we go out together...it feels like people are thinking you’re too good for me.” Even when they’re buying things for the baby, or even mere grocery shopping, this kind of doubt lingers in Hux’s mind. Surely there’s plenty of fit, slender, protein-guzzling omegas his boyfriend would rather breed with?

“You don’t have to be like me,” Ben soothes, “I don’t _want_ you to be exactly like me, if you don’t want to.”

“So you’re saying you find this attractive?” Hux rubs his hand against the side of his belly, disbelieving. Ben’s eyes darken, and an uneven smirk picks at his lips.

“ _Very_. Did all the sex we were having not convince you?”

“I figured you were just giving me what I wanted because I wouldn’t stop bothering you…” Hux groans, though he feels a bit less disconsolate than he had before. As his alpha, Ben has a calming effect on him, his words easily assuaging all his most dreadful fears. But apparently, he’s not content with just verbally comforting him.

Ben starts unzipping his hoodie, and though Hux’s fingers twitch to stop him, to hide his body from his boyfriend’s eyes, he stops himself and instead fists them into the fabric. He watches Ben pull the zipper down over his chest, then over his middle, until the garment hangs completely open over his pale skin. Hux shivers softly, cheeks glowing as Ben carefully pushes it apart, exposing the immense swell of his belly.

Hux instinctively grimaces at the sight, but Ben doesn’t wait for his complaints, instead leaning in and pressing a kiss to the side of his stomach, working a little trail down. He shivers at his boyfriend’s softness, the way he flatters every inch of his skin he can reach with his mouth and the careful cradle of his palm. Ben even kisses those awful red stretch marks that won’t fade no matter how much lotion he uses. When he gets near his protruding belly button, Hux feels one of the twins shift, pushing out the skin just below his boyfriend’s lips.

“ _Hmph._ ” Ben snorts softly against his stomach. “Afternoon to you guys too.”

“They like you a lot,” Hux whispers, heart jittering each time Ben presses a kiss to his skin. “They’re always excited to feel you.”

“I’m excited to feel them too,” Ben sighs happily, brushing his cheek against the side of Hux’s belly as he lightly rests his head. His soulful brown eyes drift up to Hux’s face, imploring.

“You believe me a little more now?” He steals one last, sideways kiss against Hux’s skin. “Or do I need to do some more convincing?”

Hux hates to admit how easily Ben gets him to melt and forget his woes. It’s almost sad, how they flee so quickly whenever he’s around with his soft words and gentle touches, only to creep back whenever Hux is alone. Ben really needs to negotiate some more spare time around his training sessions, especially as they get closer to the due date.

“I suppose if you thought I was ugly, you wouldn’t be lavishing kisses all over me,” Hux admits with a fond sigh, ruffling his fingers through his boyfriend’s hair. “Though you _do_ give affection away as readily as an oversized puppy…”

Ben lets out a soft, playful chuff and shakes his hair in response. That gets Hux properly chuckling, before he quiets, consumed with the unwashed sleekness of his boyfriend’s hair. Eventually, Ben lifts his head off of Hux’s belly, though he keeps close so he can continue petting him.

“I think you’d be more comfortable on the bed, or in the bath.” Ben leans in to steal a quick kiss from Hux’s lips, even as they sour into a frown.

“Ideally, but it took quite a bit of effort to get all the way over _here_. I don’t particularly want to wobble back to the bedroom at the moment.” Hux had _just_ dispelled the worries over his appearance. He doesn’t want them rekindled too quickly.

“Alright, I’ll carry you. No big deal.” Ben rethreads his ponytail, before rising up into a crouch. Hux’s eyebrows shoot up in alarm.

“Ben, wait, I don’t think—” He yelps as his boyfriend slides his hands underneath his body, cradling his knees and upper back as he hefts him up in his arms. Hux scrabbles, expecting Ben to falter and drop his cumbersome body to the floor, but he holds firm. Muscles in Ben’s chest and arms bulge out as he supports his boyfriend with little effort, lips parting in a breathless smirk.

“See? Doesn’t matter how big you are, strawberry, as long as I’m strong enough to lift you.” Hux rolls his eyes, swatting Ben’s chest in rebuke for his sentimentality, but relaxing into his steady embrace ever the same.

“It won’t be so easy when they’re born and growing. I expect you to be able to carry _all three of us_ then, you beast,” Hux replies as he leans his head on Ben’s shoulder, letting his boyfriend tow him back to the bedroom. He feels a chuckle rumbles throughout Ben’s chest, muscles flexing in confidence.

“Think I’ll be up for the challenge.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hit me up on [Tumblr](http://thethespacecoyote.tumblr.com) and [Twitter](https://twitter.com/heir_of_breath7/).


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